Fly, you fools
by mcgonnagle
Summary: The afternoon of October 3rd, 1911. Because if you have no place to go back to, you can only move forward, right? Al- centric


_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

 _Reviews are appreciated and also, happy October 3rd everyone!_

 **Fly, you fools**

 _„J'ai parfois peur que tout ceci ne soit qu'une fuite en avant"_

 _-Pinako Rockbell_

The way home was shorter than his memories told him, and silent save for the clanking of his body and Den's leg.

She'd followed him out of the door, excitedly wagging her tail against his legs, simply happy that someone would go for a walk with her. She'd never been scared of the armour, even in the beginning when he couldn't control his motions well, and had probably hurt her when he tried to pet her-

He'd gotten much better at that. His writing was a lot prettier than Ed's now (even though he had broken a lot of pencils in the beginning, and Ed told everyone he was training for speed, not a calligraphy contest), but more importantly, he could control his motor skills enough now to safely cuddle kitties again.

That was pretty much the only advantage he could see in having a metal body: He didn't need to stop petting cats when they started biting.

Of course, on the other hand he could never feel just how soft the fur was, or see a kitten fit _just right_ into his hands - when he and Winry had visited the newborn kittens at Nelly's house last week, they had looked so small in his enormous hands that he'd gotten scared of crushing them, and had had to give them to Winry.

In the end, he'd gotten over his fear. They'd spent a very pleasant afternoon that had suffered only slightly when Winry had talked him out of taking one of the kittens along as a third travel companion („Where would it live Al? You can't just keep it in your armour forever").

Also, he hadn't missed that quick flash of unease across Nelly's face when he'd proposed taking one of the kittens. It wasn't like they'd been best friends, but still, they'd known each other all their lives, gone to school together. When he was six, Nelly's father had let him celebrate his birthday in their barn, where they'd taken turns jumping into the hay.

Now he had to tell everyone here that the armour was a part of alchemy training, and explain away Ed's arm and leg as _an accident_ and hope that they didn't ask any more questions.

The last part was easier than expected though, he found, because no one wanted to talk to armour for too long. Maybe it was the spikes, or maybe the voice that echoed on the inside, but all the people he'd grown up with didn't seem to want to exchange more than two or three words with him once word got around that _Alphonse Elric walks around in a seven feet tall armour and he never takes it off._

He'd reached the point where the dirt road gave way to a grassy path that lead up the hill to the Elric house. It looked quiet and peaceful, the white house next to the tall tree with the swing attached, now overgrown bright red and yellow flowerbeds beneath the green windowsills, brass letter box gleaming in the sun, and it still called out _home_ to him, some innate sense rather than specific memory of Mom laughing and smiling warmly at Ed and him, and Dad always there in his study.

A shadow seemed to fall over the house suddenly and it _looked_ colder somehow, a sinister glint in the dark windows which blurred and twisted into flashing images of coal-black fingers and splayed ribs in a pool of blood and screams and-

It was the first time he'd taken up the walk to the house. The past months had been- busy, and Granny Pinako had told them she'd taken care of things at the house after-

But they'd start their first mission the next day, and he couldn't leave without coming here at least one last time to- he wasn't sure exactly what.

He hesitated before stepping on the grass, even though he normally liked how it quieted his heavy steps (When had this become the norm?)

He looked at the little stone walls that marked the road on either side, and noticed that one stone was cracked and splintered - _the ground in the Resembool area consists largely of chalk, quick to give under pressure_ \- and he remembered slipping on the wet grass, nearly dropping Ed, catching his fall on the stones,but he _couldn't stop, his brother was dying, he had to get help- blood on the floor, running, tears (not his), sitting as unobtrusively as possible in a corner in the Rockbell sitting room trying to block out the screams-_

Al determinedly pushed the memory away (if he still had a body he supposed he would have taken a deep breath). He concentrated on the ground in front of him instead,the blades of grass that were coming up to what should have been at least knee height- Farmer Hupe had always mowed it as a favour for them, but what was the point now, when no one lived there-

Den nudged his leg with her nose, then bounded off to chase a pale yellow butterfly that was fluttering just out of her reach. His eyes followed the dog as she leaped up the hill towards the house. How many times had he run up this exact path? He could just picture it in his mind, chasing after Ed who had suddenly started running, then calling it a race to see who was faster. And Mom would be waiting in the kitchen, give them both a hug and a slice of freshly baked pie. Ed would refuse to drink his milk until Mom slid the glass over to Al. And then Ed would snatch it back and slurp it down, and rant for an hour about how disgusting it tasted.

„Come here, Den!", he called, but the dog ignored him, still too caught up in trying to catch the quivering yellow smudge.

How many times had he and Ed walked up this path together, imagining their life after they'd brought Mom back? -the pain of missing her was an old one, familiar as that tiny scar on his left hand that he'd had as long as he could remember, automatically followed by a flood of equations, arrays- _„ You remember, Al? The kitchen window was always open, so she could hear us play outside, and then when it got late she'd call us home for dinner from here. Damn, she always made the best stew, too. D'you remember?" He didn't, not exactly, but Mom had been the best at everything and he could picture it perfectly in his mind, Mom's warm smile as she handed them a steaming bowl of delicious food, and soon enough she would be back anyway, so he smiled at his brother and gave him a „Yeah,sure"-_

The window was closed now, the room behind it dusty, but still bathed in a warm glow by the afternoon sun. They hadn't really used the kitchen in all those years as Granny had always prepared something for them to eat, and it had been Mom's above all, _„best spot",_ she used to say, _„to see my boys come home"._

The flowers beneath the windowsill were her favourite too; _Bleeding Hearts_ , his memory supplied, and suddenly everything shifted as if a cold breeze had ripped through his mind, the drooping red petals like splatters of blood against the wall, and he felt dread rising up in him that something _terrible_ had happened to Mom, like a dark pit in the back of his mind that kept pulling at him with a thousand black hands, and for a moment he saw his own face, grinning maniacally-

he tumbled backwards, clutching his head with both his hands, as if that would help the feeling that his mind was exploding when he couldn't even feel the touch-

His foot snagged on what had to be some kind of root or vine and he fell, his head hitting something behind him with a resounding rattle-

Suddenly Den was beside him, growling softly and nudging his arm with her snout. His hands were still trembling, but he started petting her head lightly.

„Finally caught your butterfly, did ya?" he whispered. The dog only gave a quiet whine and laid down next to him. He looked around and realized that he was lying under their tree. The leaves had already turned yellow due to the heat this summer and were shuddering lightly in the wind, making dancing spots of sunlight on the ground.

He turned to Den again. „Remember when we were younger, we used to come here all the time...ooh and that one time when my idiot brother tried to walk on that branch and nearly broke his arm..and the swing that Dad made for us-I guess I'm too heavy for that now". He pushed against it with one finger, and it creaked at the slight movement- of course, it hadn't been used in over a year, and it had been years more since Dad had built it-as always, he wondered when Dad would return home- _„Soon",_ Mom had always said, „ _never,and that bastard had better not show his face here ever again",_ was what Ed would say, anytime someone had the bad sense to bring it up.

Dad's face was hidden under another picture on the Rockbells' photo wall (Al was 95 percent sure Ed had done that). He moved the other photo aside when he was alone though, to make sure he didn't forget, or rather- to make sure he had a face to think of at all. The only thing he knew was that Mom had been happy, and healthy, when Dad had been there, and he obviously must have cared about him and Ed, or he wouldn't have put up this swing.

 _„Well then why did he never come back if he cared so much? That asshole just got sick of having kids, so he left-and he didn't care about Mom either, she was waiting for him all those years, and he couldn't even come to the funeral? He can't ever be our father again!",_ Ed's voice sounded in his head, shaking with fury, but Ed didn't know the reason Dad left either, and Ed always got angry when he was unsure.

There had to be some logical explanation, maybe Dad had had an accident that left him with amnesia- he couldn't have known about Mom's death, or he would have come, because Mom wouldn't have loved him if he wasn't a good man, and Granny wouldn't have liked him, there was just no way-

Unless he was dead. _What difference would it even make, now_ Ed would say, but it _would_ make a difference,because then they'd truly be alone, just the two of them and this house which was nothing more than memories-

„Hey Al, are you okay?" Ed's voice called suddenly, and Al lifted himself to his feet quickly when he saw his brother approaching, the long coat tails flapping behind him.

He stayed silent for a moment,unsure how to answer- there was something that felt uncomfortably fragile still in the back of his mind, but he didn't really want to think about it enough to put it into words- „Everything's fine, brother. Don't worry."

„Good, good", Ed answered,flashing his teeth in a perfunctory smile.

„Granny told me you'd come here", he continued, stuffing his hands into his pockets and one corner of his mouth tugging into a frown. He shivered faintly and touched his right arm unconsciously. Was he cold? He always got hot or cold easily now with two metal limbs, and he had the hood pulled over his head- but then again, it was hard to tell with Ed if it was just his messed up sense of style or not (Winry had come pretty close to murdering him when she'd discovered the relief of a skull that Ed had transmuted into the armplate during his trip to Central City).

Al decided against asking about it (Ed didn't like talking about being in pain anyway and would probably deny everything) and replied instead „I just came to- you know, say goodbye. It's probably gonna be a while before we come back home, so..."

Ed nodded stiffly and rocked back onto his heels once, then pushed his hands even deeper into his pockets.

„I've been thinking-" he stated finally, his voice hoarse.

„Yes, brother?" Al prompted gently, when Ed seemed to have just spaced out, staring at the grass between his boots.

He looked up then, eyes wide and desperate, even though his tone was emotionless. „I think we should burn it down."

„What?"

„I mean it, Al. This- this isn't our home anymore", he was rushing the words out now, stumbling over them as if they suddenly grew sharp edges in his mouth. „We have to make it right, I'll get your body back like I promised, but- until then we- I can't go home; If you want to stay here, I understand, it's enough that I'll be one of the military's dogs, you can just stay here with Granny and Winry-"

„Stop it! Stop trying to leave me here! I told you, where you go, I go. We're getting our bodies back, _together_."

Ed's lips tugged into a wan smile and he gave a sort of helpless shrug. „I know."

„We need to have each others' backs, remember, Brother. Like we promised."

Ed was avoiding his gaze, looking at his right hand instead. The metal joints went _click click click_ as he clenched and unclenched his fist, muttering under his breath.

He stopped abruptly, fixating Al imploringly. „But you see it, don't you Al? Why we have to burn it. We have to move forward, and this-" he gestured without looking „it's holding us back."

Al turned his head to look at the house again. _Nothing but memories_ ,he told himself.

 _And we can't look back if we want to move forward._

„I agree. We can't have a home until we have reached our goal."

Ed nodded at him, relief warring with something else on his face. „I'll - I'll ask Granny for fuel then. We can split off some of the Calcium in the stones probably, make it burn easier."

„That's a good plan, brother. You should take Den with you, it's time for her dinner."

Ed opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and gave him another nod. As he turned to walk down the hill, the dog trotting next to him, it became clear that he was limping again. _Idiot_ , Al thought to himself. _Surely he overexerted it on his trip and now he won't admit it so Winry won't say ‚I told you so'._

He stepped towards the green door. If this was the last time he'd ever see it, he had to do it properly

The door was locked (probably Granny's doing, to prevent any nosy kids from entering); but he used the spare key from under the pot with the yellow asters.

He had to duck his head to fit under the doorframe (but he was used to that by now).

The corridor was dark, and a thick layer of dust had gathered on the wooden floor boards. _Mom would be furious,_ he thought with a smile, then pushed the image away. _No more thinking of the past_ , he reminded himself.

He walked past the kitchen- all the cabinets were empty, he knew, because Granny saw no use in letting things go to waste when neither of them would cook- they should probably learn now though, or Ed at least..

The study was a bit more orderly than he remembered, the stacks of books pushed to the walls and all the candles put neatly on the desk, instead of clattered around the room like when he was researching something with Ed, comparing as many sources as possible- but Granny didn't like chaos, and she'd come here a couple of times to get a few books for them. Unfortunately there hadn't been a lot of information on the Philosopher's stone, probably that hadn't been Dad's area of study... But there _had_ to be more, once they got to those libraries Colonel Mustang had spoken of-

He picked up _Alchemy-A Beginner's Guide_ and began flipping through the pages-he'd learned to read with this book, and he'd used to read it before sleeping-he probably knew the entire thing by heart now, but...he flipped the hatch of his helmet open and let the book fall inside.

He looked at the rest of the books wistfully-what a shame to burn them all, but Granny probably wouldn't like an entire room full of alchemy books in her house, and Resembool hadn't had a library since before they were born.

He turned and walked back into the corridor, carefully bypassing the stairs to the basement. The door to Mom's bedroom was slightly ajar, a golden stream of light on the dark floor. He pushed it open gingerly. It was unspectacular, just a wardrobe and a bed with light blue, flower-printed sheets underneath the window. He remembered it had always smelled of lilacs here because of Mom's perfume- did it still smell like this, or had everything taken on that dusty, unpleasant smell like the abandoned farmhouse where they'd played sometimes?

He walked up the wooden stairs which creaked loudly under his weight. Swirls of dust were visible in the light of the setting sun, and he probably would have had to sneeze a few times if he-

Well anyway. He looked briefly at the room on the right (He and Ed had dubbed it the ‚put-away-room', because it existed purely so that things could be put away in there, like the ironing board, or winter clothes), then he opened the door to the left.

He hit his head on the door frame and had to readjust his helmet as he entered- but their beds couldn't really have been that small, right? He knew that _he_ at least had been way taller than this tiny bed would suggest-

He noticed the blanket that laid, neatly folded, on his pillow, and went to lift it up with shaky hands. It was green like summer grass, and Mom had sewn a large white cat on it for him, which Ed had endlessly made fun of.

He'd always slept with this blanket, bundled up in the study, or under the duvet in winter because it was fluffy and got warm quicker- he couldn't let this burn.

Yes, they had to move forward, but he had to remember who he had been-who he was, too, right? Just a normal boy who could sleep and dream of cats...

He folded it up again and put it inside his armour quickly, then turned out of the room.

He should probably help Granny and Ed with transporting the fuel up here.

 _II_

The orange flames were glittering on her wet face, and although she was trying to be silent, he could hear her hiccup every so often amongst the sounds of fire crackling and stones crumbling.

„Why are you crying, Winry?", he heard Ed ask loudly, like he always got when Winry was crying.

„I'm crying for you two,since neither of you will!" Winry snapped back, defiant through her tears. Ed was clearly baffled by this idea, but chose not to say anything and turned back to look at the fire abruptly, the silver pocket watch clutched in his metal hand.

Granny was standing a few feet back, pipe hanging from the corner of her mouth and an unreadable look in her eyes.

„Winry?", he said quietly.

„Yes", she breathed back.

„There is- I have something- I need you to keep it safe for me."

She nodded at him, her eyes large and dark against the flames.

When the fire had burned down to embers and they all headed down the hill, she gripped his hand and whispered „I promise. Until you get your bodies back. Until you come home!"


End file.
